


just a sliver of the moon

by agent_orange



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M, Public Sex, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_orange/pseuds/agent_orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In terms of risk assessment, which his therapist had insistently drilled into him (bad choice of words, Pete, he thinks), he's fine."</p><p>Written for kink_bingo (hosted on DW). Prompt: public sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a sliver of the moon

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These are real people, not my characters, and they belong to no one besides themselves. This did not happen. If you got here by Googling yourself, please hit the back button.

Pete knows from experience that a tour break of close to a month flies by faster than you'd expect, especially because he's older. He's in L.A. for the duration, doing _Best Ink_ stuff, plotting and filming another music video, playing a few club shows here and there. It's great, even with his mercurial views on reality television, but sometimes he feels like a Real Adult with a Real Job, and label meetings that require suits in offices where Pete always looks out of place get mundane, weird, or both quickly. Ashlee has Bronx for a few weeks, so he's determined to throw at least one great party and enjoy (kind of) sleeping in his own bed until they head out again.

Despite her irregular schedule, Meagan doesn't bat an eyelash when Pete says that he hates how regular his nine-to-five days make him feel.

"Please," she says, rolling her eyes. "Try having a fitting at six, go-sees all day, a shoot in the afternoon and a show at night." There's a smile in her voice, though. Sometimes it'll hit Pete that she's only 24 and has been working for years. He was a fuck-up in college, a drop-out at 21, and a fuck-up for years afterward, and he has another hyper-clear moment of how lucky he is to be with her. He says so, and she laughs, not unkindly.

"Half the internet wants to date you. I just happened to walk into you at a farmer's market and spill your groceries." She kisses the top of his head, towering over him in her heels, and then his mouth. "Okay, I'm gonna be late for my shoot if I don't leave now. Fucking traffic."

"Go," Pete tells her. "I've already sold my soul to corporate America. I'll just be rotting in the trailer they gave me in exchange."

To be fair, he does have a pretty sweet trailer on-set, not that he holes up in it like he would have years ago. He has a fitting in a bit (even though he wears a lot of his own stuff), and then they're reviewing audition tapes, which doesn't require his presence but "it would be appreciated," according to one of the ADs. Pete's not a huge fan of hanging out by himself, not in a house this large, so he heads over early, grabbing a Starbucks (thank God for drive-through) on the way.

~*~

Pete's dozing on a couch in the green room between his fitting, which landed him a few new shirts, and the meeting. There's a knock on the door, and then footsteps. Heels. When he opens his eyes and scans up, he doesn't need to look past the knees to know it's Meagan.

"Shoot go well?" he asks, his voice still a little rough with sleep. There's a bottle of water on the table, which he has to sit up to grab and take a swig.

"Mmm. They dressed me up like a china doll, which...whatever, but not my thing," she says. Pete watches the way her lip curls and pulls her down to bite at it.

"I like you always," he says.

"You'll like me even more when I tell you that I stopped by to help break up the monotony of your day," Meagan says, and kisses him, deeper now that they're not exactly pressed for time. He loves the cupid's bow of her lips, how soft her skin is against his stubble. It still hasn't gotten old like make-up sex with Jeanae did. And Meagan's lack of tolerance for bullshit hasn't gotten old, either; when he told her he was waiting for the bottom to drop out and things to fall apart she told him he was being an idiot and then talked it out with him.

She's not talking now, though, because she's biting his ear just how he likes and digging her nails into his shoulders hard enough to sting, hard enough to dig in and leave marks, a reminder he has no intention of needing. She stops him when he gets up to close the door and says, "I have, um, a thing," with slightly flushed cheeks when he raises an eyebrow.

Pete grins, the one that she says makes him look wicked. "Say no more." The door's maybe a quarter of the way open and the set's far from full. And his dick's already been on the internet, and he's done worse things in worse places. In terms of risk assessment, which his therapist had insistently drilled into him ( _bad choice of words, Pete,_ he thinks), he's fine.

Meagan leaves hickies on his collar, now that they can without having to lie to Bronx, and peels off his shirt, tossing it carelessly on the stack of new ones. Her heels come off next, and Pete's grateful to have the playing field leveled. He can only crane his neck for so long, and he takes advantage of the situation to slip his tongue back into Meagan's mouth while she undoes his belt and zipper.

"You sure no one's going to come looking for you?" she asks.

There's a right answer to this question, Pete knows, but he's not sure what it is. He takes a minute that should be spent doing other things to think and says, "You never know. The producers always wanna start the meetings early and talk everything to death." Her face tells him that he answered correctly.

"Better hurry up, then," she says, setting her glasses on the table and lifting her dress up. Pete's never going to get tired of dresses. There's nothing (besides underwear, which quickly gets removed) to stop him from sliding his hands up her thighs, settling on where he knows the wings of her tattoo are. "Come _on_."

But before he can even move, she's just slipping into his lap and onto his dick, the warm, wet heat and the musk of her perfume making his head rush. He never wanted to write a straight-up love song before Meagan, but she makes him glow red. Part of that sentence might accidentally make it out of his mouth, because there's a half-stifled laugh and a breathy _Peter._

__The angle's good. He can kiss Meagan's neck and roll her nipples between his fingers. She stops momentarily as the ceiling shakes a little._ _

__"What if someone caught us?" Meagan asks. She doesn't sound worried in the slightest, and there wouldn't be any real fall out ( _ha ha, Pete,_ his fucking incessant brain supplies) if they were. It's a game to her, kind of; she doesn't want photos of them like this out, and the danger of getting found out hadn't really appealed to Pete before, but it does now._ _

__"What if?" he whispers back. "Everyone would see you. You wouldn't be mine anymore." _Minemine_ mine. (Even though she's already seen. It's her job to be.)_ _

__"Not true," she says, but moves faster on him just the same. The footsteps upstairs sound like they're getting closer, and she pushes his fingers down to her clit. She's not having any of his teasing now. Pete's completely under her control, and it's hotter than he can say._ _

__Someone's definitely making their way down the stairs, or from the sound of it, more than one person. He's not so far gone that he doesn't notice, but it's a near thing. Meagan's pulling his hair (what little of it he has now that his flat-iron days are over) and clenching around him and meets his mouth in an off-center kiss. There's a growing urgency; the room's overly air-conditioned but he feels impossibly warm._ _

__"Think we'd get in trouble?" Meagan sounds so fucking _young_ and looks it too, all flushed cheeks and messy hair. It feels like so many different kinds of wrong, which she must sense, because she continues. "Think you'd get _punished_? Or would the tabloids just hang you out to dry instead?"_ _

__Pete hears the footsteps getting louder, and he's not sure if he sees shadows down the hallway. He flicks his thumb against her again, watching Meagan's eyes squeeze shut and her body go tight for a minute, before he lets himself go, hips pumping a few more times before it gets to be too much._ _

__He feels Meagan's nails pinching his nails before anything else, before he realizes that his name's being called._ _

__"Come on," she says, daintily climbing out of his lap and tossing him his shirt. "I think you're being summoned." She puts her glasses back on, and they're just slightly crooked, which makes her look adorable._ _

__Sure enough, he's trying and failing to make himself look presentable when a PA knocks on the door, saying that they'd like to get going with the review._ _

__"Just a s-sec," he manages, wincing as he zips up his fly. Luckily, Meagan has one of his Clan hoodies in her bag, and he throws it on to cover up the array of blooming bruises on his chest. "You should've told me you were into this sooner. Think about how much we could've done already: backstage, AK, the studio...seriously, no fair for holding out on me."_ _

__"Guess we'll just have to make up for lost time. Okay, go, now," Meagan says, kissing him and tossing her underwear in her bag. "I'll see you at home."_ _

__Pete is _seriously_ lucky.__


End file.
